Believe
by MyNameIsBeki
Summary: How can Malik convince Altair that he doesn't hate him anymore? AltMal Yaoi. Don't like? DON'T READ! Rated T just in case


**A/N- Well, AltMal, so expect a little yaoi. If you don't like or don't agree with it DON'T READ IT! Don't complain to me saying you weren't warned!**

******Altair and Malik (c) Ubisoft**

**Believe -AltMal- **

~.~

There was a loud crash which caused Malik to look up, startled. He heard a groan from the other room and sighed. Altair. Now what did he want?

He watched as said man stumbled through the doorway, grasping a bloodstained feather. "Done" He informed as he made his way over to the desk at which Malik was occupying, and dropped the feather there.

"Making a mess of my bureau, I see" Malik said pointedly, glancing at Altair's wounded thigh, blood seeping through the clothing and running down to drip onto the floor.

"It's nothing" Altair sighed.

"Come on, let me see it" Malik stated as he stored the bloodied feather away and grabbed bandages and alcohol from under his mahogany desk.

"I said it's nothing, I'm totally fine" Altair whined, he hated it when all he ever caused for Malik was inconvenience with his constant wounds.

"Sit. Now" Malik commanded. Altair sighed in defeat and sat with a 'humph'. He bared his thigh so Malik could once again heal him and winced slightly at the sting from the alcohol being dabbed on his wound.

"There, all done, now that wasn't so hard now was it, you baby." Malik taunted.

"A baby? How can I be the baby when I do the missions?"

"I can tell it hurts you, you poor little baby"

"Now you listen here, It. Does. Not. Hurt." He growled, pressing his hidden blade against Malik's neck.

"Ha, of course not, Oh Brave One." Malik mocked. Altair only growled more and increased the pressure of the blade, successfully drawing blood. "Are you picking another fight with me Altair? You know I'll just beat you to a pulp" He challenged.

"Oh really, _friend_, with just your one arm, I highly doubt that." Malik's eyes narrowed.

"And whose fault do you think that is? Yours! If you hadn't of fucked up none of this would have happened!"

A look of pain and regret flickered across Altair's eyes before he stamped the feeling down.

"Now get away from me. I just want you to know-" Malik moved forward purposefully, causing the blade to cut further into his neck, "-that I _hate _you, and I don't want to speak with you except when needed. So go away and stop bleeding on my floor from now on." He threatened.

Altair didn't say a word, shocked at the malice in Malik's voice. They may argue all the time, but he had never really sounded like that before. Pain and regret again flickered across his eyes, but this time, he wasn't able to stamp the emotion down in time, for Malik noticed it.

He stood abruptly, and turned to leave the bureau.

"Altair..." Malik whispered as the weight of what he had just said sunk in. "Altair!" He shouted as he ran into the other room.

He was gone.

~.~

Over the next few months, Altair threw himself at his missions, trying to get as many wounds as he could, without dying of course, just to piss Malik off and see him display some kind of emotion towards him.

The Creed didn't understand what had happened to Altair, but they liked the result. He sped through the assassinations he was appointed to successfully. They didn't like the fact that he was getting himself so injured in doing so, but they didn't mind, as long as the right people were being 'disposed' of, nothing could have been better.

Whenever he went to the bureau to collect and deliver a feather, bleeding, he never said anything except 'it's done'. Well, Malik deserved this treatment, he should have at least forgiven him by now, and it had been so long since it all happened.

He never noticed the concerned looks directed at him from his former friend.

Malik could hardly bear seeing him in the state he was always in when he visited the bureau. He was always bloodied and he wanted to bandage him up and tell him to be careful, but he obviously couldn't say that. He hated him. But he knew he was fooling himself. He didn't hate Altair. Of course he couldn't forget what had happened, but he had forgiven him. Quite a long time ago as well.

He just couldn't bring himself to wound his pride and tell Altair.

He just had to deal with it. This is what it will always be like, he just had to get used to it and squash his true feelings for the man down no matter how much he wanted to tell him.

~.~

Altair dropped into the bureau lithely and made his way over to the mahogany desk at which Malik sat. He leant on the desk, looking expectantly at the other man.

Malik sighed and grabbed two feathers and some information on the next assassination. "This one is quite far away, you'll have to go there, assassinate the target, collect some information, and make your way to a small town closer to Jerusalem and dispose of another target. There are many guards in the town and the target is heavily guarded. Make sure it gets done" Malik informed.

Altair grunted in response. He took the feathers and the information and turned to leave.

"Oh, and La-Ahad, be careful" There, he said it. He looked down at his now intensely interesting maps.

Altair froze and almost turned to face the man. He didn't. The atmosphere grew tenser and he grunted in reply and escaped the now suffocating room.

He ran along the rooftops of Jerusalem, making his way to the outer walls. He sighed and slouched down against a chimney.

What right did that man have in telling him to be careful? It was almost as if he… cared…

Damn it! Malik shouldn't have said something like that! He should have just handed over the information and the feathers without a damn word!

He sighed again and supported his head on his hands. Stupid man. Didn't he know how he felt about this whole situation between them? Of course he didn't. Malik hated him. Why would he care? He was just saying that to piss him off most likely. Altair decided to get extra bloody on this mission.

~.~

The first assassination was quite easy, he just had to take a four day journey to get there and kill the target. It turned out he was just a corrupt clergy. He collected the new information on his next target.

A Templar.

Oh, he would enjoy this one. He made the four day journey to the next town, which happened to be just an hour's ride away from Jerusalem.

Once in the town, (which was more like a village… it was so tiny.) he made his way around, looking for possible hiding places for if he was to be chased. He asked around and found that his target was to make a public appearance in two hours time in the market place.

He made his way over to the destination to find the peasants were removing stalls and cleaning up. He climbed up to a roof to get a better view of the market and so he could roughly estimate how many guards there will be.

After the two hours of waiting, the market place had been cleared and guards were beginning to pour into it to take their appropriate places.

A bell tolled in a nearby church to inform of the approaching Templar. He made his way to a stand that was conveniently placed under where Altair was now waiting. Taking his place, with eight guards posted around him, he began his speech.

Altair assessed the situation; there were the guards around the Templar, but not very much surrounding the market; another eight, so only sixteen in total. _Should be easy_, Altair thought to himself.

He would kill the Templar and a guard first with his hidden blades, taking the others by surprise he would kill the ones closest and run. The thought of being injured didn't even cross his mind; he was too fixed on killing this bastard Templar.

He decided to put his plan into action.

He jumped down, sunlight glinting off his hidden blades, and plunged them into the necks of the Templar and one of the eight inner guards.

Part 1, successful.

He withdrew his blades. Using the guards surprise and confusion, he again, plunged his hidden blades into another two guards. He pulled out his sword and slashed a fourth guard across the chest, effectively causing him to bleed out. He turned and took out a fifth guard with a stab to the stomach.

Part 2, successful.

Then he ran, taking one of the unguarded backstreets. He made his way through the village, heading towards where he had left his steed. He had to hurry. He needed to get back. He needed to see Malik. _What? No I don't!_ He thought to himself. Why would he want to see Malik? Even if he didn't want to admit it, he knew exactly why he wanted to see him so badly.

Part 3, unsuccessful.

Unfortunately, he came face to face with four guards blocking his path. He paused only momentarily and threw himself at the closest guard. He submersed his hidden blade into the man's neck.

He turned to face the remaining guards and hoped that he could get this done quickly; he could hear the faint cries and shouts drifting in the wind from the market.

A guard swung his sword at him. With a flick of his wrist, Altair blocked the blow and brought his other hand up to block a punch directed at his face. He pulled his arm back and sunk his hidden blade into the soft flesh of the guard's stomach.

He turned to the last two guards who had decided to attack together. They succeeded in wounding Altair, and the sight of his blood running down his arm seemed to spur the guards on. They attacked again. And once again, they wounded him, this time on the other arm, and a whole lot deeper.

Altair hissed slightly at the pain. One of the guards pushed on and attacked while the other jumped back. Altair successfully counter-killed him. He turned to face the last guard but, however, he was two slow; he had no time to react as he watched the blade swing nearer. He stumbled back as it slashed him across the chest. He looked down in dismay as he saw how deep the wound actually was.

Damn.

He might actually die right now. What a lowly death; killed by a measly guard.

The guard rushed forward, sure of his imminent victory. He thrust his sword forward haphazardly but unfortunately for him, he misunderstood Altair's abilities.

As the guard came forward, Altair brought his hidden blade up, piercing him in his exposed flesh. He fell to the floor in a crumbled pile. Altair pulled himself up and stumbled back to his steed.

~.~

Malik glanced up at the loud crash that sounded from the entrance to the bureau. Most probably Altair. He sighed as he waited for him to enter the room. When said man wasn't forthcoming, he stood and made his way into the other room to see Altair slouched against his wall, bleeding of course.

"Hey, La-Ahad, get up off my floor" He said in a form of greeting. Altair looked up sullenly. That's when he saw where all the blood was flowing from. He saw the long, deep gash adorning Altair's chest, the blood soaking his clothes.

"Altair... What the hell have you done to yourself this time?" He sighed.

"Ah, it's nothing; I didn't mean any of it to happen, I just wasn't paying any attention."

"Can you stand? If so, come through to the other room; let me take a look at your wound."

"Ha, there's no need, I completed my missions, I'll just make a mess of your beloved bureau, remember?"

"Altair shut up and come into the other room, now. You need that looking at right now or you'll just bleed to death by the looks of it."

"Fine" He sighed in response. He stood and walked into the other room, trying to stand as straight as he could and hide the pain that he currently had to endure; he didn't like showing any weakness, especially not to Malik of all people. Yet Malik knew him to well, he could see the pain in his eyes.

He sat down and took his upper clothing off to bare the wound. Malik hissed in sympathy. He retrieved his bandages and alcohol from under his desk and set to work.

The blood soon rose the Altair's cheeks, from the heat in the room of course; there was no way it could have anything to do with the fact that Malik's slender fingers were gently touching his fevered torso.

Once he was securely bandaged, Malik ordered him to get some sleep on his bed as he went out onto the balcony. He didn't obey; he followed the one-armed man to the balcony and leant against the railings beside him.

They stood there in silence for a while.

"You know, La-Ahad, I don't hate you." Malik said as if the statement meant nothing in the world. Altair froze. What? What did he just say?

"Ha. Sure you don't. Of course I'll believe you after all the times that you have told me you hate me; often accompanied by violence." Altair sneered in response.

"Oh, come on. Why don't you believe me? And it's not like you didn't enjoy the fights."

"I just explained my reason! And yeah, I enjoyed the fights, because I always won." _Because you only have one arm. _He thought to himself. He would have said it, but he couldn't really afford to get into a fight in his current condition. He glanced down and watched as the people of Jerusalem rushed about their business as the sun dipped low in the sky.

"Altair…" Malik began. He moved his hand up to the others' chin and turned his face towards his. Altair instinctively grabbed his wrist tightly but his didn't meet the man's eyes; he was too embarrassed. "Look at me, Altair." He hesitantly met his gaze. "Listen, I don't hate you."

"Sure, prove it."

"What? How do you want me to prove it?"

"I don't know, you'll think of something. Now let go of me."

Malik kept his hand where it was. He couldn't believe what Altair was saying. How could he prove it? Maybe he should- Wait, no, that would be wrong. But if he didn't, Altair would never believe him. He had to do it and then at least they could go from there.

"Altair. I. Don't. Hate. You. Do I have to spell it out to you?" He only got a grunt in response. Malik sighed. _I guess I'll have to then._

Malik removed his hand from Altair's chin, only to move it up and cup his cheek. Altair's eyes went wide with shock. "M-Malik? Wha-" He was effectively cut off as Malik's lips pressed against his. At first he was too shocked to do anything, and then he closed his eyes and began to move his lips with Malik's.

Much to Altair's dismay, Malik pulled away, leaning his forehead against Altair's. "Do you believe me now?" He whispered.

"If I say no, will you kiss me again?" Malik's stomach did a summersault when those words emerged from Altair's scarred lips. "Maybe" He sighed. This was exactly what he wanted; Altair in his arms.

"Then no, I don't" he smirked. Malik couldn't resist those lips any longer. He tilted his head to press his lips to Altair's as he moved his hand lace his fingers into his hair. Altair flicked his tongue out and traced it along those perfect lips that he had wanted for so long and met no resistance. They began the battle for dominance which Altair won with ease.

Altair moved his arms to hold onto Malik's hips and pulled him close against his body, at which Malik moaned in response.

Sadly, the need for air parted them. Malik pulled back panting. "You don't know how long I have wanted that." He sighed and leant his head into the crook of Altair's neck.

"Oh really? I think I might just believe you now, but I might not." Malik smiled against the cool skin of Altair's neck.

"Well, I think I have enough time to make you believe."

~.~

**Wellllllll? What did all yee beautiful people think? Comments? Please?**


End file.
